Jack in the Box
by Gamecrazy 25
Summary: I am the rider, you are the horse. Light/Matsuda, dark themes


**Drabble--Jack in the Box**

Summary: I am the rider, you are the horse. Light/Matsuda, dark themes

**Gamecrazy's Note**: I listened to Rammstein's Rein Raus song for the first time and I had to write something Light/Matsuda after it! It inspired me! Any lyrics belong to Rammstein and do not belong to me! Death Note belongs to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata! I own nothing!

* * *

_I am the rider, you are the horse_

_I have the key, you have the lock_

--X--

Light didn't love Matsuda. The very thought was disgusting, actually handing over his heart to an incompetent fool. His soul lay in a box, heavy with chains and under lock and key. Light submerged it deep inside his body to where no one could reach it--not the ever-clinging Misa who gladly presented her heart for him to devour, not the graceful Takada who he pulled along like a marionette, not the loyal Mikami whose fondest dream was assisting him in his purge of evil.

With all of the better candidates, why would a hapless cop fit Light's expectations? Of course, he was no idiot, and keeping his heart out of reach while glass personalities acted on sweet dreams and implications of romance to his line of puppets was his preferred method. His true self would win no admirers. His lips twisted into a sick grin he couldn't show to others to mar his innocent facade at the thought of snapping reins over everyone and no one suspecting a single vile move from his hands. He blindfolded everyone around him to his true self, constructing a porcelain mask that oozed intelligence and level-headedness, not an iota of murderous intentions leaking past the seal.

Light loved no one but his flawless self. Everyone else was pawns on a chessboard begging to carry out his commands.

Matsuda was easy to crush into the dust. All Light had to do was trap him in an intricate web of silk, binding the shocked detective in a fine networking of strands so thick he would never escape fully. It would cling to his skin for eternity, encircling cold bones buried into the earth. Light had power to brand his influence into minds and bodies; Matsuda happened to be marked with both in a literal sense.

The detective would never admit it, his mouth zipped childishly. If he was ever confined for any reason, even that mental torture wouldn't pry the secrets sank into quicksand-like mud. None of those ambiguous things were words, however. It was all late night meetings, burning with blazing fire that incinerated all but the one organizing it. Light administered poison to Matsuda, polluting him with all of the repressed lust stamped into tiny packages to ignore. He may be a god, but even he had desires. Matsuda fit the bill completely for an outlet: too stupid to confess, halfway on his side, and it wasn't as if the cop had girls lined up for him. He should be grateful for this treatment because Light's touch was a rare thing to experience.

He didn't fancy Matsuda for any other reason, really. Why should he grant an ignorant coworker his darkest secrets? It would be a useless move on his part, Matsuda not having the correct mentality to handle the urgency and pressure of becoming a desciple of Kira. He would shy away, refusing to assist him. Of course, that would be unexceptable.

Light could take his gavel of justice and completely annihilate Matsuda with a single stroke, yet he didn't do so. The cop proved his limited usefulness by not of pen-stroked murder but of resiliency: the man was able to be molded like whatever shape Light wished. Even so, the god loved to see the utter hopelessness shine in Matsuda's eyes as he was wrecked and contorted into someone unfamiliar.

He would never recover from this and that caused Light to smirk. How much more would the fragile butterfly ensnared in spider's thread be able to withstand before being embraced by death?

Light's secrets were a macabre jack-in-the-box: as you turned the crank it played happy nonsence music, but once the song ended, a terrifying face loomed in the air, burst from the caverns. If anyone else knew... It would almost be hilarious.

Too bad Matsuda couldn't hide his depression well. He wasn't Light, an excellent actor, who constructed entire personalities to perform in certain manners. He could only attempt to dispel his torment with a thin veil, not suited for completely masking emotion. The others were concerned but Matsuda never cracked under their persistent questions. He was actually good for something.

Light pressed Matsuda just a bit harder, hearing the man gasp underneath him. How much longer, he wondered. How much? _You can't escape me, Matsuda_.

--X--

_I am well within your skin_


End file.
